Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 69365 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69365 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)
“I am breathing,” he argues in a mumble.
“Respira,” my fingers abandon the pen to gently kneed the arch of his closest foot, “major.”
“Idono how to breathe better,” Zero grouses on a head roll.
“Quiero que lo intentes.”
“You want me to try,” mockingly escapes my favorite hacker over the sounds of the big cat documentary I’ve been ignoring all morning. “You. Want. Me. To. Try.”
“Sí.”
“Why?” Gets barked in my direction in tandem with his glare darting away from his main laptop over to me. “Why do you always do that?”
“¿Qué?”
“Insist on talking to me only in Spanish at the worst time, my guy.”
“It’s actually the best time.”
“Dis,” he grunt moans as I continue to lovingly glide my thumb up towards his toes. “Hard. Dis.” The slight hooding of his eyes and dropping of his shoulders can’t be stopped. “It basically interrupts whatever I’m doing and creates a 404 code that then requires an F5 refresh and that’s not convenient when I’m in the middle of something.”
“Not convenient but necessary when you’re in danger of overheating that beautiful, brilliant brain of yours.” His mouth twitches, clearly prepared to argue, prompting me to cut him off. “Which you are.” My thumb rubs the backside of his toes. “These,” a tiny tap is executed, “always tell me what your mouth won’t.”
To no surprise, his bottom lip pokes out. “You’re not supposed to know me that well.”
“I know you much better than I get credit for.”
“You need more credit?” His eyebrows playfully waggle. “You want extra credit?”
“I want…” I indulge in a long, slow lick to aid in keeping me focused, “to know what you were reading.” Switching to the other foot occurs next. “What’s got you so worked up?”
“I’m just…hung up on the last piece of this riddle.”
“Have you asked Salay?”
“Yeah, it’s what she disappeared to meditate on in the pool.”
“It’s raining.”
“And as long as it’s not lightening, she swears she’ll survive.”
Curiosity outweighs my displeasure. “What’s the line?”
“In the deepest glass of Adam’s Ale, tucked in by the most tattered sail, slumbers the catch, yet Lee Shore marries Gale leaving no life left in this tale.”
“And you can’t decipher it?”
“I think I have deciphered it, I’m just not sure if I’m wrong.”
“It’s a riddle. You can always be wrong.”
“I can’t afford to be wrong!”
The loving strokes momentarily cease.
“We don’t have time for me to fuck this up again! We don’t have time for me to crack codes I don’t understand! We don’t have time for me to chase weather patterns that were only charted on paper and never transferred to the web! We don’t have time for me to hack into something that’s fucking unhackable because they didn’t have computers to hack into back then!” He doesn’t offer room for a counter notion. “How’s the legal loophole sitch?” His head lazily leans against the fluffy, white cloth couch pillow. “Find anything helpful?”
“Unfortunately, there are less ambiguous interpretations for crimes in their country, making it much more difficult debate or deliberate not only their definitions, but the consequences to illegal actions that occur. Their laws are…much tighter than ours.”
“How tight?”
“BNG Bank.”
“That’s one of the most secure banks in the world!”
“Yes, but not the most secure; therefore, I’m not giving up.” Resuming sweet rubs mindlessly occurs. “I’ll never give up when it comes you, Zero.”
He attempts to smile; however, it struggles to spread across his face.
“Now, can we please watch something other than The Desperate Houselions of The Savannah?”
“But this is a good episode!”
“You say that every episode.”
“Yeah, but in this one they discuss how prides can get up to twenty-five lions!”
“Which is wild.”
This time a full fledge grin is thrown in my direction. “That was a dad joke.”
I casually lift his foot up towards my lips to plant a kiss on it. “Was it?”
“Def.”
Another lands on the side of his appendage. “You sure?”
His breath noticeably hitches prior to him replying, “Yeah…”
“Did you like it?” graces our ears in a throaty tone between additional kisses.
“I like that…” he practically pants.
“You like that…?”
“Master.”
“Such an obedient, little fuck toy,” I praise, fingers lightly teasing his ankle. “Be a good boy and move your laptop to the coffee table.”
There’s no hesitation to complete the action.
“And mine.”
Reluctance is once more non-existent and in his new finished position, his throat is perfectly exposed for my fingers that can’t resist curling around it.
Squeezing.
I lightly growl and groan and guide him backwards onto the couch as if my grip’s the collar and my extended arm the leash.
Content over control – something I don’t have in the other situation – steadily courses through my veins leading me to command, “Get the lube.”
Retrieving the small bottle located on the couch side table beside the seashell lamp requires contorting that not only has his taut frame curling up towards me but causes him to choke himself a bit in the process.